


Surviving The South Side

by southsidestyle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Consensual Non-Consent, Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Fucking, Forced Orgasm, Light Bondage, Light Choking, Naked Female Clothed Male, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Roleplay, Rough Sex, There's A Knife But It's Not Really Kinky, Though Cheryl's Not A Teenager, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 13:30:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/southsidestyle/pseuds/southsidestyle
Summary: It had all happened so fast; one minute she was walking along the border separating the North and South sides, and the next, a group of motorcycles were swarming her and she was snatched up. Cheryl has no idea how long ago that had been now, but it feels like she’s been here for hours; sat in a cold room, on a no doubt dirty floor, and tied to what feels like a wooden pole. She wouldn’t know for sure though, not with the black pillowcase over her head.The footsteps finally reach the bottom of the stairs and then stop, and Cheryl feels her heart beating out of her chest as she waits. No sooner do the footsteps start approaching is the cover roughly ripped off her head, and after Cheryl’s eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, they focus in on the face of FP Jones.





	Surviving The South Side

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with one more rare pair fic nobody asked for for Riverdale Kink Week. I've never written anything like this before, so hopefully it's not too bad. 
> 
> Please do make sure you've read the tags before reading. And speaking of, thank you to the wonderful mods who put this week together, who helped me with the proper tagging for this.

 

Cheryl’s tugging at the painful binding around her wrists when she hears a door open, alerting her to the fact that she's no longer alone for the first time since she’d been tied up and abandoned. She immediately stops her struggling at the sound and listens carefully as the door closes again, but when nothing immediately follows, Cheryl thinks she might still be alone after all, until she finally hears footsteps.

Judging by where the sound is coming from, not to mention the creakiness that accompanies every step, Cheryl is finally able to deduce something about her whereabouts—she’s most likely in a basement.

It had all happened so fast; one minute she was walking along the border separating the North and South sides, and the next, a group of motorcycles were swarming her and she was snatched up before she could even try to scream loud enough to be heard over the roar of their bikes.

Cheryl has no idea how long ago that had been now, but it feels like she’s been here for hours; sat in a cold room, on a no doubt dirty floor, and tied to what feels like a wooden pole. She wouldn’t know for sure though, not with the black pillowcase covering her head.

The footsteps finally reach the bottom of the stairs and then stop, and Cheryl feels her heart beating out of her chest as she waits for whatever is going to happen next. No sooner do the footsteps start approaching is the cover roughly ripped off her head in one fluid motion, and after Cheryl’s eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, they focus in on the face of FP Jones.

He's the King of the South Side Serpents and the father of one of her former classmates, but Cheryl knows him best as a man that has many shady business dealings with her father.

“I should have known it would be _you_ ,” Cheryl practically spits in his face, feigning a confidence she doesn’t feel. "Here to do the deed yourself."

"Don't send a boy to do a King's job." FP smiles at her, crouching down so that their faces are level, and he reaches a hand out to touch her cheek; he laughs when Cheryl immediately tries to jerk out of reach. “You don’t sound disappointed.”

Cheryl ignores his taunting words and instead shifts her eyes behind him, taking in the room she’s being held captive in for the first time. It’s smaller than she expected, but just as dirty as she imagined, with bare, unpainted walls; it’s mostly empty, save for a few scattered things around the room—a chair, a table with the bag she had with her when she was nabbed on it, a dirty mattress, and most notably, a video camera set up in the corner.

“Where have you taken me?” Cheryl questions the Serpent when she can’t figure it out herself. She imagines a dump like this is a dime a dozen on the South Side.

FP’s smile grows. “You’re at the Whyte Wyrm, sweetheart,” he informs her and now that he’s said that, Cheryl realizes she can hear the faint sounds of a busy bar above head, possible rescue just a floor away. “But don’t worry, no other snakes will disturb us. They know the basement’s off limits.”

He pushes himself to his feet, but only moves away long enough to grab the sole chair in the room and drag it over so that it’s seated right in front of where Cheryl is sat bound to the wooden beam. FP pulls a switchblade out of his back pocket before he sits down, flipping it open as he slowly leans forward in the chair.

“What do you want with me, Serpent scum?” Cheryl demands, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice as the blade of FP’s knife is tauntingly waved around just inches from her face. “If you’ve captured me in the hopes of leveraging my life for money, your attempt at ransom is sorely misguided.”

The blade sweeps closer to her face as FP laughs. “I’m not stupid, Red,” he tells her, sucking his teeth loudly. “Not a damn soul in this town that doesn’t know how little Clifford and Penelope Blossom care for their not so darling daughter. If I was looking to make a quick buck holding someone for ransom, I woulda had my boys grab your brother; you’re completely worthlessly to them, which would make you worthless to me.” FP leans further forward as speaks, his tone getting lower the closer he gets, and he carefully drags the tip of his knife along the dip of the neckline of Cheryl’s dress. “Well, at least if I were looking to get rich quick. But I can think of many other ways I can _use_ you.”

Cheryl visibly gulps as her eyes follow the path of the blade, her body momentarily frozen as she contemplates the thinly veiled threat in the man’s words. “What are you going to do to me?” she wonders in distress, voice trembling and lacking any real bite.

She hisses in pain when FP suddenly reaches forward and grabs a fistful of fire red hair, tugging her as close as he can while moving his knife up to the delicate skin of her neck. “I’d hate to ruin the surprise,” he whispers lowly, his breath hot against her cheek. “But don’t worry, girl, you and I are gonna have _a lot_ of fun tonight.”

FP pushes away from her roughly, and Cheryl yelps as the back of her head connects with the wooden pole; too distracted by the pain to notice the Serpent pushing his chair away as he stands up before moving towards the table set up in the corner.

It isn’t until she hears the faint sound of buzzing that Cheryl looks up to see what he’s doing, and her whole body tenses when she sees FP approaching her with a vibrator in his hand and a sadistic grin on his lips.

Cheryl almost whimpers—not entirely uncertain that she wouldn't prefer his knife—but manages to bites it back, trying to reign in the weakness she’s already shown now that FP has confirmed his intentions and started his game. “You snakes are even more depraved than I had given you credit for.”

“We do more than bite,” FP agrees, catching the way Cheryl’s eyes dart towards the camera that he’d set up in the corner. “Ah, shit, almost forgot the most important part of the evening.” Spinning around, FP strides over to the camera, turns it on and checks that it’s focused before making his way back over to the bound girl.

Cheryl immediately tries to curl into herself when FP crouches down in front of her again, and then tries to kick her legs wildly when he starts touching her, but the way she’s positioned makes it nearly impossible to get enough momentum to deter the older man at all.

“Get your disgusting hands off me!” she cries out, though she knows there’s no point, and she doesn’t stop moving her legs either; twisting her body as best she can and trying to keep her thighs firmly pressed together when FP tries to pry them apart. But all her squirming and fighting does is get her dress ripped and pulled down to her waist. “ _Stop!_ ”

Though he looks more amused by her attempts to resist than frustrated, FP still grabs Cheryl by the hair again, pulling roughly enough that it gets her to stop wiggling around. She tenses in his grip, her now exposed chest the only thing moving as she pants heavily and screws her eyes shut tightly.

“Look at me,” he orders her sternly, giving her a beat to comply before he tugs on her hair again. “I said _look at me, girl_!” Cheryl whimpers, both at the pain in her scalp and the volume of FP’s voice so close to her, and reluctantly obeys; opening her eyes to look into his wild brown ones. FP’s mouth twists up into a grin before he leans closer so that his lips are right against Cheryl’s ear. “You can fight this if you want—I do like ‘em feisty—but I wouldn’t recommend it. You see, you can either be a good girl and open your legs for me now, or I can go upstairs and get a couple of my boys to come down and help you with that. Pick your poison.”

Cheryl swears she can feel her heart hammering against her ribcage as she registers the implication of FP’s threatening words, and she tries so hard to keep her whimpers at bay as she slowly brings her knees down from her chest and lets them fall open on the floor.

“You’re worse than scum,” she tells him through clenched teeth, and she isn’t the least bit surprised when it just makes FP chuckle in delight.

He releases his vice grip on her hair, but only so he can use that hand to push the short hem of Cheryl’s dress up to her waist and then to spread legs further apart; wide enough to that he can guide the vibrating wand between her pale thighs.

“What’s a girl like you doing on the South Side without any panties on, huh?” FP wonders with a knowing glint in his eyes, watching Cheryl’s face intently as he turns on the vibrator and presses it against her clit. Cheryl’s answer catches in her throat as her whole body jerks at the sudden contact, and the only sound she makes is a moan she can’t swallow. “Feels good, doesn’t it? See, I’m not so bad.”

Cheryl clenches her jaw with the same intensity she clenches her fists behind her back, and she tries to keep her eyes from fluttering closed as jolts of pleasure surge and crackle through her every nerve ending. It feels awful and amazing all at the same time, and Cheryl can’t tell if that feeling growing in the pit of stomach is from distress or something else entirely.

“You, you disgust me, you leatherfaced crone,” she tries to hiss in FP’s direction, but the moan that accompanies it makes it hard for her to be taken seriously.

FP clicks his tongue in amusement, pressing the head of the vibrator harder against Cheryl’s clit and lighting up at the way her shapely pale thighs tremble and clench in reaction.

“Looks like you’re enjoying it to me, Red,” he counters knowingly, waiting a few more torturous moments before he pulls the vibrator away so he can replace it with his hand. FP leans in close to Cheryl’s face as his fingers find her sex, his grin widening when he feels the expected wetness there. “Oh, you’re _definitely_ enjoying this.”

FP trails the tips of his fingers through Cheryl’s slick pink slit, his digits immediately getting covered in sticky juices as her folds part for him. He slides through her a few times, until his fingers are completely coated in her arousal, and then he holds them up for her to see.

Cheryl’s face gets hot as she sees the evidence of her body’s betrayal, but she can’t bring herself to look away. “I, that’s not…”

She doesn’t finish her defense, not because she doesn’t have one—though she _doesn’t_ —but because FP shoves his wet fingers into her mouth and forces Cheryl to taste herself on them. The sound she makes is somewhere between a strangled grunt and a moan, something nobody would believe would come out of Cheryl Blossom, and it makes FP’s dick unbelievably hard.

Slipping his fingers out of Cheryl’s mouth, FP moves them back between her legs and shoves two of them inside her without warning, instinctively mirroring the way her whole chest arches up and out at the unexpected invasion.

“Come on, Red,” FP whispers tauntingly into Cheryl’s ear as he pumps in and out of her cunt at an increasingly fast pace. “Show me how much you _hate_ me.”

FP’s fingers are big, fatter and longer than her own, and they fill Cheryl better than hers do, too. Her walls are tight around them, and throbbing, and everytime he curls just right and presses against that one spot deep inside of her, Cheryl swears she blacks out just for a second.

Her body tenses as she tries to fight her building orgasm, the back of her head pushed stubbornly against the wooden beam almost as hard as her teeth press against each other, but it’s no use; not when FP moves his thumb to Cheryl’s already sensitive clit and sets off a firework show in her belly.

“Oh, oh, _oh god_!” Cheryl cries out as she comes fast and hard and shamefully; her entire body seizing for just a moment before she begins to shake all over.

FP pulls Cheryl’s trembling body against his as she goes though it, as if offering her some kind of comfort from the pleasure he just inflicted on her, and her mind is so cloudy that she actually allows it.

They sit like that for a couple of minutes, with FP’s fingers snug inside Cheryl’s still throbbing cunt, and it isn’t until he finally pulls them out of her that the moment is broken and she remembers the circumstances for which she finds herself.

Cheryl pulls away from the Serpent King as if she’s been burned the second she comes to her senses, and of course it just makes FP laugh; it seems like anything she says or does brings the man nothing but amusement and happiness. It’s enough to make her stomach twist, and to make her feel something else a little bit lower than that.

“Still fighting it, huh?” FP asks rhetorically, bringing his wet fingers up to Cheryl’s face and pushing stray hair off her sweaty forehead. He cups her flushed cheek, forcing her to look in his direction again. “Can’t admit a snake is getting you off?”

Brown eyes battle, one set dancing with mirth and the other with disdain, until Cheryl starts shaking her head forcefully, breaking from FP’s grip.

“You are doing so such thing!” she vehemently denies, despite the obvious show she just put on. “You are… You’re _scum_ , making me… Manipulating my body to…”

Cheryl can’t seem to find the right words to express what she should be feeling, but it hardly matters, considering FP wouldn’t believe anything she claimed, nor would he care; there’s only one thing Cheryl could say that he’d actually listen to, and she has no plans on uttering it.

“We’ll see about that, Princess,” he replies once it’s obvious she doesn’t have much of a protest to offer. FP switches the vibrator to his other hand and shoves it between Cheryl’s legs again; pressing it hard against her clit and turning it on to its lowest setting before squeezing her thighs together to hold it in place as he stands up.

Cheryl’s instinct is to close her eyes from the feeling, but she’s too concerned with watching what FP’s doing to give into it. Instead, her heavy eyes follow FP to his feet, where he unzips his jeans and reaches inside the fly.

“What, what do you think you’re doing?” Cheryl demands even though it’s obvious, and she sits up a little straighter when FP looks down at her with that wide grin she wants to smack off his face.

“You didn’t think you were the only one that was gonna get off, did you, Blossom?” FP tilts his head like he thinks he’s cute or funny, lips twitching as he carefully pulls his cock out. "You rich, always so fucking selfish."

Cheryl tries not to look, tries to keep her eyes on his smug face, but it’s not long at all before her gaze is being pulled down and her jaw quickly follows suit when they reach their destination.

FP’s cock is fitting for a snake—it’s long and thick, and looks like it could hurt her—and it doesn’t even seem like it’s at full length yet. Cheryl’s not exactly the most experienced of young adults—though she's no prude, either—so it’s not saying much that it’s easily the biggest she’s ever seen, but she’s positive even the most promiscuous of her townspeople would be impressed, if not a little terrified.

Something inside Cheryl tingles at the sight of it, at the thought of all the things he might be planning to do to her with it, but that’s easy enough for her to blame on the vibrator between her legs.

“You cannot possibly think you’re getting that _thing_ anywhere near me,” she protests, shrinking away from the Serpent towering over her when he moves closer; dirty boots framing her thighs to keep them pressed together and his crotch lining up perfectly with her face.

FP sucks his teeth and shakes his head condescendingly, hand stroking over his shaft as he inches closer. “When are you gonna get it, girl? I’m gonna do whatever the fuck I want with you. And there ain’t a damn thing you can do about it.” Cheryl swallows around the lump in her throat, eyes darting between FP’s face and the cock he’s guiding towards her mouth and she presses her lips together defiantly. “You forget already or you just hit your head that hard when you came around my fingers? Don’t make me go get some of my brothers to come help pry that pretty little mouth of yours open for me.”

Cheryl’s jaw trembles as she tries to keep her mask of from slipping, but she doesn't want to gamble on FP’s threat being an idle one because that’s a limit she’s not ready to test yet.

“I _loathe_ you,” she says through clenched teeth before she reluctantly parts her plump lips and tries to hold FP’s intimidating gaze as he gleefully pushes the tip of his dick past them and into her mouth.

Her face twists up in disgust at the taste, but she does nothing else—not to prevent it from happening nor to get him off; Cheryl just keeps her mouth open and allows FP to slide his hardening cock in and out of it.

His fat shaft is heavy on Cheryl’s tongue, his belt buckle bumping her nose everytime he pushes all the way in, and she tries not to gag on the sheer size of his cock when it easily reaches the back of her throat.

Cheryl’s not putting any work into it, just lets FP use her mouth as a fuck toy, and that seems to be enough to keep him happy for a bit, but not nearly for long enough.

“Put a little effort into it, Princess,” FP suggests in a way that sounds more like an order than a suggestion, but Cheryl doesn’t obey either way—not even when he fists her hair and tries pulling her head forward to meet his thrusting hips. “Fuck! Why won’t you just..." His frustrated growl stops mid-sentence, and FP’s whole face morphs as an imagery light bulb turns on over his head. “Maybe you just need a little incentive.”

The redhead’s brow creases as FP’s cock slips from her mouth while he takes a couple steps back so he can bend over and turn the setting on the vibrator up a couple notches. Cheryl’s body lurches at the sudden change of pace, the previous setting so low that she had almost forgotten that the growing ache between her legs was even from the vibrator.

“You’re sadistic,” she spits at FP, the fire burning in her eyes dampened by the way her lids flutter.

“And you’re lazy,” he shoots right back as he stands up and gets back into his previous position. FP fists the base of his cock and practically giggles at the way Cheryl’s face screws up in disgust when he gives her pinkened cheeks a few playful wacks with it. “Forgot you rich folk don’t like to do any kind of work unless you can get something out of it. So, here’s my offer: if you can make me come before you do, I’ll let you go.”

Cheryl’s eyes widen at his offer, not sure what to make of it or if he’d actually be true to his word—he is a _snake_ after all. Not that it will likely matter, anyways, with how fast the toy is working her up.

Still, she plays along. “And if I fail?”

“Then I fuck you as planned,” FP answers with a shrug and he doesn’t even wait for Cheryl to reply before he’s shoving his cock back into her mouth. He gets his answer when Cheryl opens her mouth wider and starts bobbing her head forward so she can swallow more of FP’s dick.

Cheryl Blossom isn’t one to give blowjobs—she finds them vulgar and degrading, and frankly, she’s never seen the point in performing a sex act that provides _her_ no pleasure—but she’s not an idiot and she’s good at everything she applies herself to.

But it’s hard to really do much with her hands tied behind her back and her all around limited mobility. Cheryl briefly considers asking him to untie her, to level the playing field and help her serve him better, but FP isn’t a stupid man, despite the insults she dumps on him; he wouldn’t dare go for it.

So Cheryl makes due with what she’s got, and that’s a hot mouth, a talented tongue, a good gag reflex and a great pair of lips that more than a few disgusting boys in high school had told her are perfect for giving head.

She cranes her neck forward and back, trying to match the pace and rhythm of FP’s canting hips; licking, sucking and gagging in any way that she can to try to beat that feeling building up from her core. But it feels impossible, the way it gets harder and harder for Cheryl to concentrate on what she’s doing the better she feels.

It’s not like she didn’t know this was a losing battle, but Cheryl Blossom never backs down from a challenge, even one as humiliating than this, and she doesn’t give up either, no matter how far behind she is.

So when FP shoves as much of his cock into her mouth as he can fit—which is only about half of it, she’s terrified to notice—and holds it there, Cheryl doesn’t fight it; she looks up at him with watery eyes and holds his gaze even as she starts to choke on it. And when FP finally pulls out to let her breathe, Cheryl turns her head to cough and tries to wipe her chin on her shoulder; then lets him pull her back by her hair and doesn’t even hesitate to go for his balls when he offers them to her.

FP’s entire body shudders at the feeling of Cheryl’s wet soft tongue against his sensitive balls, and the reaction only gets stronger when she sucks them into her mouth while he strokes himself.

The taste and texture is worse, but Cheryl’s glad to give her throat a break; though she still has trouble breathing for different reasons and the rough material of FP’s jeans keeps rubbing against her chin. It’s no more enjoyable than getting her throat fucked was, and she can’t even tell which is getting FP off faster, either.

But when Cheryl shifts to try to get more comfortable, the vibrator does too, and suddenly she’s coming hard and violently; her vision whiting out right after she starts to see stars. Her orgasm feels bigger than the last—more intense and longer lasting—and when her body stops trembling and she gets the feeling in her limbs back, Cheryl opens her eyes to find FP’s smug face smiling down at her.

“Please,” Cheryl croaks out, voice raw from her moaning, but mostly from the throat fucking. She coughs and it hurts, but that’s the last thing on her mind. “Please turn it off. I’ll… anything you wish, I’ll do, just please get that infernal thing away from me.”

While FP mercifully doesn’t deny Cheryl’s desperate request, he does take his sweet time granting it, and it feels like it takes minutes for him to simply bend over. When he eventually grabs hold of the handle, he shuffles his feet a bit to the side so Cheryl can part her thighs, but still holds it against her clit for another torturous minute until he finally turns it off and pulls it away.

Cheryl almost cries from relief when she’s finally free of that little plastic piece of evil, and she takes a moment to collect herself while FP makes his way back over to the table. She drops her head against the beam behind her and stretches her sore jaw, trying not to think about what a mess her face must be. Cheryl glances at the camera that’s recording all of this in the corner, and it feels so shallow that she’s worried about looking this bad on tape.

Her reprieve is short lived though, because when FP makes his way back towards her, he has his knife in his hand again. The sight of it makes Cheryl stiffen, even though she trusts him not to hurt her with it, and her muscles don’t relax until he’s stepped behind her and crouched down to cut the bindings around her wrist.

If Cheryl’s body wasn’t so tired and sore, she might have tried to get away from him or put up some kind of fight now that she’s free, but she doesn’t even bother. It would be pointless, anyways; there’s no way out but up those stairs, where a whole den of snakes awaits her if she tries to leave too soon.

So instead, Cheryl just pulls her arms around to her front and rubs her sore wrists, grimacing as her thumb gently traces the angry red marks the hard plastic left behind where it had dug into her delicate pale skin.

“I’ll get something better to retie your wrists with,” FP offers her casually as he walks around her, talking like this is a regular conversation; like his hard dick isn't sticking out of the fly of his pants and she isn’t wearing one of her most expensive designer dresses as a belt. “I told those idiots not to use zip ties.” Cheryl doesn’t know if he’s expecting her to reply, but she has nothing to say to that so she just shrugs and wipes her face clean as best she can. “Don’t move.”

She nods and her eyes follow the man as he exits the room to go into another one through a door she hadn’t seen behind her, and he comes back with what looks like an old t-shirt. Or, what used to be one, before he ripped it apart.

“Would you mind tying them in front this time?” Cheryl pleads as she stands up like he asks her to, holding her arms out in front of her.

FP narrows his eyes as he considers it, as if he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of test before he eventually shrugs and agrees. “Any other requests, Princess?” he scoffs sarcastically as he carefully ties her wrists together with the ripped shirt.

She knows she shouldn’t push her luck when he's actually being nice to her, but Cheryl’s never been able to swallow a good insult when the perfect opening presents itself and to be honest, the kindness feels wrong. “Perhaps a location that doesn’t reek of broken dreams, welfare checks and jailhouse soap?”

FP’s eyes suddenly darken and his face gets hard, and somehow Cheryl can’t tell if that growing feeling in her gut is fear or arousal. But before she can think about it too much, FP is brandishing his knife in her face again.

The smile on his face looks out of place—not to mention sadistic—as he trails the tip of the blade gently over Cheryl’s cheek, across her clavicle, between her breasts and then down her tense stomach until he gets to her bunched up dress, which he promptly cuts off her body and tosses away.

Cheryl suddenly feels exposed in a way she didn’t a moment ago, which is stupid, considering her dress wasn’t covering much of anything up anymore, but standing here now—completely naked while FP is still fully clothed—Cheryl feels more vulnerable than she has all night.

“You’re finally scared,” FP notes as he watches her fidget in front of him, holding her bound hands up to cover her chest in a pointless attempt at modesty. He grabs Cheryl under her chin and forces her face up so she’s looking at him. “ _Good_. You should be.”

Then he’s dragging Cheryl over to the mattress that’s set up deeper into the room and roughly pushes her down on it. “ _Fuck!_ ” Cheryl grunts as she lands painfully on her side. “I’m sorry,” she immediately tries to appease him for some reason she can’t pinpoint. Maybe it’s because the reality of what’s coming next finally hits her—that what this night has been building to is finally here.

“No, you’re not,” FP disagrees, completely unimpressed. “Your kind is never sorry for nothing.” Cheryl flinches at the truth of his words, and the edge in them that hasn’t been there all night. It seems her latest dig really hit a sore spot that she wasn’t even aiming for. “But you will be.”

It sounds more like a promise than a threat, and the force of it makes Cheryl tremble. “I… I truly am…”

“No more talking,” he decides, leaving no room for arguments as he steps onto the mattress and drops to his knees in front of her. “You only talk when I ask you a question, you got that, Blossom?” Cheryl considers being a smart ass, but ultimately swallows her answer in favor of simply nodding instead. “Good. All you need to be doing is _listening_ , for once in your fucking life.”

FP grabs both of Cheryl’s legs and pries them apart easily, despite her instinctive attempt to keep them together. She doesn’t want to give in without a fight, but she also doesn’t want to test him again, at least not so soon, so once FP has her legs open, Cheryl lets him settle between them and even manages to bite back at moan when he slips inside of her without warning.

Cheryl is wet and stretched from her first two orgasms, so taking FP’s cock doesn’t hurt as much as she feared it would, but it’s hardly a comfortable fit either; he’s big and thick, and while she’s certainly not a virgin, she’s definitely never had anything this size inside of her before.

FP doesn’t start slow or soft, more like he starts fast and hard and builds up to faster and harder; pumping into Cheryl with powerful thrusts that reach so deep inside her she feels like she might split in two.

It shouldn't feel nearly as good as it does, but when FP moves Cheryl’s bound hands above her head so that he can lean down and suck one of her hard pink nipples into his mouth, she almost gnaws off her bottom lip trying to keep in the moans just dying to come out.

FP’s also using his teeth, nipping and teasing Cheryl’s nipple in a way that hurts so good that she finds herself arching off the mattress to meet his hungry mouth. A large, hard hand finds her other breast, palming the whole thing first before callus fingers find her nipple and twist.

Cheryl had no idea her nipples were so sensitive, but every pinch and every bite makes her pussy throb and clench around FP’s cock, pulling him deeper inside her; the way her legs are wrapped around his waist and her heels are digging into his ass are doing that, too.

She knows she’s supposed to be fighting this—both FP’s actions and the way they’re making her feel—but she just can’t. It shouldn’t feel this good, but it does—it feels more than good. Being tied up, ordered around, used and talked down to; being roughly fucked and treated the way she treats other; it all makes Cheryl feel more than she thought was possible.

It’s sick and twisted and Cheryl hates herself for getting off on it, but she wouldn’t be a Blossom if she wasn’t a little bit twisted and sick. As if sensing her train of thought, FP’s hand moves from Cheryl’s tits, up to her neck, and while he doesn’t apply much pressure there, just the feeling of his fingers around her still sore throat is enough to set her off.

Cheryl’s third orgasm is bigger than her last two—even more intense and lasting even longer—and FP just keeps fucking her through it. He pulls away from her chest just so he can hook his arms under her knees and lean forward again, bending Cheryl’s body into itself.

FP supports his weight on his hands and angles Cheryl’s body just right so that he’s barreling down into her cunt deeper with each thrust; his balls and the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against her ass as he cants into her.

It’s enough to fuck another orgasm out of Cheryl, her fourth of the night, before the feeling of the last one has even left her limbs, and she has to beg him to stop by the time she’s on the other side of it.

“Please, please, stop,” she pleads breathlessly, breaking the one rule FP had set. “Please, I… a minute, at least just give me a minute to recover.”

Cheryl’s surprised when FP actually complies, whimpering as the man pumps into her a few more times before he stills inside of her; leaning back and letting her legs drop down to the mattress again. He’s still hovering over her as she trembles and quakes beneath him, and he has this devilish grin spread across his face.

FP must feel so powerful right now, the way Cheryl just came on his cock—the way her pussy is still fluttering and spasming around him right now—and he should; the power he holds over her in this moment, and all night, is all encompassing. And she’s the one that's given it to him.

“I should punish you for that,” he threatens, but it sounds empty, and more like he just wants to make sure Cheryl feels indebted to him. “But I do like hearing you beg. Been a long time since I had a Northsider begging me for something; even longer since it was from underneath me.”

Cheryl doesn’t know if she’s more relieved or disappointed, and she knows even less about how she should feel about that. “I’m not the first Northsider you’ve bedded?” she can’t stop herself from asking, and only partly because she wants to keep him talking to prolong her break.

“There’s very few things in life I haven’t done, Red,” FP tells her with a tone she can’t quite place—maybe a mixture of pride and regret?—and before she can even think to follow her question up with another, she’s distracted by the sudden loss of him inside her.

“Wha—”

“Turn around,” he orders as he leans back on his heels, fisting his cock impatiently as he waits for Cheryl to follow his instructions. “ _Now_ , Blossom, unless you want my cock in a different hole when I put it back inside you.”

Cheryl shivers at his threat, somehow knowing this one is one FP would follow through on, and quickly rolls herself over and onto her stomach. She’s immediately hoisted up onto her knees by two hands on her waist and her upper body falls forward so she’s leaning on her elbows; bound hands in front of her face and ass in the air.

And while she obeyed him in a timely manner and without talking back, Cheryl still braces herself for what he’s going to do to her—and where’s he’s going to do it—only for FP to bury his face in her pussy.

“ _Oh!_ ” Cheryl gasps in surprise, her entire body shivering as FP’s soft tongue eagerly licks through her flushed pink folds, over and over, slurping up her abundant juices, until he takes most of her in his mouth and slips his tongue in her opening. “Oh my _god_.”

Even though Cheryl’s sex is close to being overworked after coming so many times, this is such a nice and unexpected change of pace that her hips start bucking back into FP’s face as he licks into her. Cheryl can already feel another orgasm building up, but all too soon it stops, as suddenly as it started, like FP ate her out just to know he had; to try it, or maybe just to know what she tastes like.

“Always thought you’d taste like cherries,” he admits offhanded when he comes up for air, confirming Cheryl’s theory. She glances back at the Serpent and sees his face glistening, even in the shitty lighting of the Whyte Wyrm’s basement, and he sends her a wink as he slaps her on the ass. “Or at least maple syrup.”

She doesn’t know what to say that, but it doesn’t matter when FP slides his cock back into her pussy with ease and starts fucking into her from behind, effectively erasing all other thought from Cheryl’s mind.

He feels even bigger from this angle, and Cheryl is sure the back of her thighs are going to be rubbed raw by the time he’s finished, but it feels _amazing_. Something about the sudden switch from soft to hard really does something to her, and FP’s cock is reaching so deep inside her Cheryl is positive it won’t take long at all for her to reach her peak once again.

“O-One more,” she pants, not sure if she’s warning him or begging him, just that it’s going to be her last one; she can’t survive more than that.

FP doesn’t seem to mind, though. “You’re gonna break my record, Red,” he lets her know through his huffing, and it’s a weird thing to be proud of, but Cheryl is; she likes knowing this night will be as memorable to him as it is to her, even if something this depraved probably isn’t nearly as rare an occasion for him as it is for her.

Cheryl’s cunt walls stretch around FP’s fat cock as it juts into her, hugging it tightly and pulling him in deeper and deeper with each thrust, until he has her laying flat on her stomach, face pressed into the mattress, and starts barreling down into her again.

She feels tighter than ever now, but still so fucking wet that it doesn’t seem to give FP any trouble. He’s easily able to switch up from his short sharp thrusts to longer, smoother ones, but they all feel the same to Cheryl when she’s this close.

“I, I’m almost…” Cheryl tries to say, but her words are muffled by the mattress. She turns her head as best she can, trying to see the man fucking her, but her neck can’t quite twist that far. “I’m so close. I just, I need...”

FP grunts in acknowledgement, getting a few more long strokes in before he leans over and lays all of his weight against Cheryl’s back; rolling and rocking his hips against the swell of her round ass as he huffs next to her ear.

“That’s right, Princess, come for me one more time.” His breath is hot against Cheryl’s sweaty skin, but it still manages to send a shiver right down her spine and to straight to her cunt. “Come around that nice big snake inside you before it fills you up with venom.”

Cheryl hates that such a bad line—and obvious clumsy metaphor—gets to her in that moment, but with those words whispered into her ear combined with FP managing to slip his hand between her writhing body and the dirty mattress beneath her to reach her clit, well, Cheryl doesn’t stand a chance.

“Oh, _fuc_ — _!_ ”

Her final orgasm feels more like an aftershock after the strength of previous ones, but it’s still enough to make Cheryl see lights. Her body vibrates with pure pleasure, but only her hips quiver underneath the weight of the Serpent on top of her.

FP tries to fuck her through this one too, but with the way Cheryl’s cunt is clutching and squeezing his cock, he only lasts about half a minute longer than she does before he starts coming after her.

He’s all grunts and moans as he jerks his hips against her ass before finally burying himself in deep and letting go; a thick stream of warm cum spilling from FP’s tip and flooding Cheryl’s pussy until it’s full. She hums at the unfamiliar feeling—the naked throbbing, sticky warmth, all of it—and she’s absolutely buzzing as she rides her high for as long as she can.

Once he’s emptied his entire load as deep inside Cheryl as he can, FP stays sprawled over her for a good minute, breathing heavily with her and just taking the moment in, before he finally rolls off and out of her.

Cheryl misses the weight, and the fullness, as soon as it's gone, and she watches the Serpent with blurry, heavy eyes as he gets to his knees and crawls up so he’s in front of her and easily unties the shirt from around her wrists.

And then just like that, it's over.

She's free.

The realization startles Cheryl, makes her flinch like she just had a bucket of ice water thrown on her, and she struggles to push herself into a sitting position and back into reality.

“Was that all okay?” FP asks her point blank after a moment, fisting the torn shirt in his hands and looking at her with kinder eyes than she’s ever seen him direct at her. “I mean, did I do it all like you wanted? I wasn’t sure how far to push, the things I could say...”

The atmosphere has changed around them so suddenly, now that the curtain has been drawn and the show is over, that it takes Cheryl a second to catch up and she feels so awkward that all she can do is pretend she’s not. She clears her throat and straightens her back, giving FP a firm nod as she pushes herself to her unsteady feet—waving off the help he offers her as he follows suit.

“Yes, your performance was exemplary,” she assures him in her best impression of the business tone her father taught her and Jason when they were younger—this _was_ a business transaction after all. It sounds false even to her own ears, but FP doesn’t make a big deal out of it. “The evening was quite thrilling. Four and a half stars.”

Not wanting to stand naked in front of a fully dressed man with his softening cock hanging out of his zipper any longer, Cheryl turns on her heel and strides over to where her bag had been placed and pulls her spare change of clothes out of it before quickly getting dressed. She had wanted to lose all her power tonight, and be completely out of her element, but not like this.

“Don’t forget your vibrator,” FP reminds her lightly, nodding towards the table he left it on. Cheryl nods her gratitude, collecting it and shoving it into her bag. She then walks over to the camera next, presses the stop button and pulls it off the tripod. “Do I get a copy of that?”

Cheryl presses her lips into a thin line and considers it. “I suppose that can be arranged,” she eventually agrees, carefully putting her camera back in her bag and then zipping it up. Once she has what she needs, she slips it over her shoulder and turns back to FP, who has since thankfully tucked his dick back into his pants. “Your full payment should be in your account by the end of the business day tomorrow. If for some reason there’s an issue, please only contact me through the email address for which we’ve already previously corresponded.”

FP looks a little surprised that that’s all Cheryl has to say, but he doesn’t push for more; he seems to know his place and his role in all this well, and she appreciates that. “Yeah, sure thing, Red.” He stares at her for a moment longer, the set line of his mouth twitching at something until he finally speaks up. “There’s a bathroom right at the top of the stairs, to the left. If you wanna, you know, clean yourself up a bit before the others see you. They won't give you any trouble either way, but...”

Cheryl’s eyes widen a little as she imagines what a mess she must look like; swollen lips, saliva and make up smeared all over her face—not to mention the sticky cum she can already feel coating the inside of her thighs. What was she thinking, not bringing a pair of panties for after?

She nods in thanks, not feeling the need to voice her gratitude, and takes two steps towards the stairs before she pauses. “Next time,” she begins, keeping her body facing away from the Serpent, but turning her head in his direction. “Next time, make good on at least one of your threats. It will go a long way in making the stakes feel more genuine.”

While she did what she was told so that it would remain just the two of them this evening, a part of her had been tempted to test her limits. She knows she made the right choice tonight—she wouldn’t have been able to handle more than just FP for her first time—but she has no interest in playing it safe going forward; Cheryl wants to test her limits—that _is_ what this whole experiment is about, and she has a safe word for a reason.

“Next time?” FP sounds surprised and it almost makes Cheryl laugh as she turns the rest of the way around; her level of comfort no longer much of an act.

“Talk to a couple of your boys,” she tells him, but quickly amends her statement. “Not the incompetent imbeciles that grabbed me and tied me up.” They had broken one of her few ground rules, after all: don’t leave any visible marks. “Some of the younger ones, perhaps that rather tall fellow, with the lovely neck tattoo. He strikes me as a young man with plenty of pent up aggression that needs a… _constructive_ outlet.”

“That’s my whole crew, lady,” FP informs her with a light scoff and she thinks she might detect a slight edge in his tone. “They got a lot to be angry about.”

But Cheryl waves his words off with a literal flick of her wrist, not at all interested in hearing the plight of the average Southsider. “Either way, find some strapping young gentlemen—or what passes for gentlemen on the South Side—who know how to follow simple rules; have them tested to make sure they’re clean.” She pauses as she reconsiders her words; what’s the point of fucking a Serpent if they’re not a little dirty? “Of any diseases, at least. Have them ready to come in next time; they can watch or perhaps even join, if they're lucky.” It’s weird to be the one giving orders now, but Cheryl slips back into the role easily. “Tell them they’ll be compensated generously. Certainly more than my father pays you reptiles for whatever illegalities it is you commit for him.”

FP looks almost as impressed as he does amused and he gives her a nod. “Whatever you want, boss.”

“Excellent,” Cheryl smiles, feeling even more at ease now that she has the control. “I’ll be in touch, sometime within the next month, I’m sure.” Looking around the grimy basement one more time, Cheryl makes her way towards the stairs, the music getting louder and more clear the closer she gets, before she turns back to FP just one more time. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Forsythe.”

Cheryl hopes she sounds sincere, because she thinks she might be, just a little bit; the snake had made one of her biggest fantasies finally come true, after all, and who knows what else he might do for her in the future.

“You too, Miss Blossom,” FP replies back dutifully, hands shoved in his pockets as he watches her take her leave.

Until next time.

**Author's Note:**

> Would very much appreciate it if you hit that kudos button or left a comment if you liked it. Thanks for reading and I hope nobody minded a bit more plot and fluff than usual.


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